


I'm Too Hot! (Hot Damn!)

by Drazyrohk



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7706509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drazyrohk/pseuds/Drazyrohk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even the leader of the team falls prey to the most basic of programming from time to time. Unfortunately, Optimus Prime is either too proud or too foolish to ask for help. Good thing the rest of the team is there to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Too Hot! (Hot Damn!)

**Author's Note:**

> Another mysterious story written on loose leaf that I found in my room. This one muuuuch longer than the previous scraps, hahaha.

He was cleaning himself, that was all. Lightly rubbing to get rid of dirt. That was it, really. Everything down there was pretty wet and sticky, and Optimus Prime knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with not cleaning inside himself as well. 

Chewing on his bottom lip plate, he glanced at the door. Listening for any sign of people lurking outside, though he was fairly sure they had better things to do than eavesdrop on a showering mech, he figured the coast was as clear as it was going to get.

Under the cover of the sound of dripping water, Optimus curled a finger into his valve. With a shiver, he began stroking at nodes that lit up at his touch, a soft noise of desperation escaping him. 

He’d been so hot lately, so uncomfortable. He was trying not to touch himself every moment he was sure he was alone, but it was getting too hard to fight it. 

One finger became two and began to move deeper. He huffed hot air from his vents and spread his legs, giving up any pretense of his actions. If he could just find relief, he could-

The door slammed open, Optimus jerking his hand away with a yelp and hastily trying to wash off the incriminating residue that stained his digits. 

“Ain’t this a sorry sight?” Ratchet growled behind him. “You coulda said somethin’ during your last exam, I would’ve checked to see when your heat was set ta start instead of you drivin’ all the other young bots into a distracted tizzy out there!”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Optimus protested, hurriedly closing his panel. “How’d you get in here?!”

“Medical override on the door lock.” Ratchet took his arm in hand and turned him. “You need help, kid.” 

“No.” Optimus spluttered, trying to pull away.

“It wasn’t a question.” Ratchet murmured. “My guess is you’ve been sufferin’ through this for the better part of the week. It’s high time you let someone take care of you.” 

“Ratchet, I’m fine. I was trying to clean myself. In private. Which is what mechs normally do when they’re washing.” Optimus stated. 

“So, you’re tellin’ me that you’re not in here boilin’ in your own armor thanks to a heat cycle? Tryin’ desperately to deal with it yourself instead of askin’ your team for help?” Ratchet said, arching a brow at him. 

“I… It isn’t like that. I was just…” Optimus trailed off, falling silent and lowering his optics. “Look, it’s not the duty of my team to take care of this. I can handle it.” He finished, frowning. 

“Or you could let me take care of it for ya.” Ratchet said. “I’m a medical professional. You wouldn’t be the first bot I’ve taken under my very capable servos, Optimus.” 

Blinking in surprise, his lips parting to protest, Optimus stared at the old bot. It was true that Ratchet was likely the only person on the team he could trust to take care of this and be somewhat discreet about it. He honestly didn’t have anything to lose here. He considered Ratchet a friend, after all. Not to mention, he was probably one of the more experienced members of the team. 

Giving the barest hint of a nod, Optimus ex-vented. “I guess it would be easier that way.” He said softly, looking away.

“Just because you’re the leader doesn’t mean you have to be dependable all the time. Sometimes, even leaders need an assist.” Ratchet said, cupping one hand behind Optimus’ helm and pulling him into a very deep, very thorough kiss.

Oh. Oh. That was definitely okay. So was the hand that dug into his panel to reopen it. And the thick finger that pushed into his valve. Groaning, Optimus leaned into Ratchet. The old mech really wasn’t wasting any time, soon working a second finger in and making Optimus arch against him. 

Twisting, scissoring and curling, Ratchet thrust his digits into Optimus’ valve with depth and stimulation that the Prime would have been lucky to achieve. Ratchet’s glossa explored the inside of his mouth, flicking and stroking, and Optimus had to flare ever vent to try and keep from overheating.

Pulling away, Ratchet huffed out a breath. “You didn’t need a shower to be drippin’ wet.” He said close to Optimus’ audial. “Let that spike of yours out before it punches a hole through your panel.” 

Optimus obeyed, and soon the glossa that had been warring with his own was stroking along his spike as the head was pressed deep within Ratchet’s intake. Crying out, Optimus clapped a servo over his mouth and bucked forward. Ratchet growled, causing vibrations that had Optimus’ knees shaking. The medic was fingering him a bit harder and doing things with his mouth that the Prime couldn’t hope to describe. 

Gasping hoarsely, Optimus grabbed at Ratchet’s helm with both hands. While it relieved some of the pressure he had been feeling and dispersed some of the charge plaguing him, his overload didn’t seem to dispel the heat much. 

Jetting transfluid down Ratchet’s throat, Optimus moaned. He could feel his valve clenching down on Ratchet’s digits, their optics meeting as he looked down. Holding his gaze, Ratchet swallowed, slowly pulling away and licking a trail through the lubricant staining Optimus’ thighs. 

“They don’t make ‘em as sweet as this anymore. Glad to have met you, Optimus.” Ratchet said, voice rough and static laden. 

“Th-thank yoooou!” Optimus practically shouted as Ratchet drew his fingers free and buried his face between his legs.

As good as Ratchet’s glossa and fingers were, they didn’t quite get as deep as Optimus needed them to. Lapping up as much of the Prime’s fluids as he could, Ratchet let out a rumble of appreciation before pulling away and creaking to his feet again. 

“P-please. Frag me…” Optimus begged, pressing his thighs together and squirming. 

“First, let’s try and figure out whether this heat’s gonna be taken care of with your spike or your valve.” Ratchet said, licking his lips clean and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “You’ve got me achin’ and I wouldn’t mind a bit of relief myself.” 

He hooked his digits into Optimus’ collar and put his own back struts against the wall, dragging the Prime against him. “Go on then. Try an’ peg me offline. Doctor’s orders.” Ratchet said, his own panels clicking aside. 

When Optimus hesitated, Ratchet’s expression softened a little. He wrapped his arms around Optimus’ neck and pressed the length of his frame against his. Murmuring soft encouragement in his audio receptor, guiding him without judgement or even the barest hint of a teasing tone of voice, Ratchet helped him work through his insecurity. 

“I really don’t give a damn how much experience you’ve had.” Voice gruff but fond, Ratchet offered Optimus a smile that twisted as he gasped upon his entry. 

Optimus wasn’t a small mech, certainly not by Autobot standards, and his equipment was well proportioned. There was no resistance as he pushed into Ratchet’s valve, gliding easily inwards until their hips came together with a dull clang.

Instinct was an incredibly powerful thing. Optimus was moving before he realized it, his denta catching his bottom lip plate and a soft grunt of effort escaping him. 

“Oh yeah, that’s it…” Ratchet’s optics were half lidded and he smiled indulgently. 

“I’ve… never really done this before.” Optimus admitted. “I-” His vocalizer burst with static and he began to thrust harder, bringing his hands down and cupping Ratchet’s aft, pulling him more tightly to his frame. 

“You’re doin’ great. Keep pistonin’ those hips of yours, you fraggin’ Ferrari. Hard. Deep! Just like that!” Ratchet panted, lubricant trickling down his thighs.

Charge soaring, Optimus thrust frantically and Ratchet streamed encouragement. Their hips clanged together, wet noises emerging from where their bodies met, and Optimus’ found his vision filling with static. 

“Oh yeah! Oh frag yeah! That’s it Optimus! Frag me! Frag me!” Ratchet howled, Optimus letting out a shout that rattled the walls. He bucked forward and up, Ratchet crying out his name and hitting release hard. Optimus felt charge tingle from his feet upward to his back struts, Ratchet writhing against him as he filled the older mech with transfluid. 

Thick, strangled cries escaping his throat that could barely be heard above the roar of his fans, Optimus sagged against Ratchet’s frame. Sparks jumped between their frames, aided by the falling water. 

After a few moments of hard venting, the creak of shifting struts and Ratchet’s low, pleased moans, Optimus let the tension bleed out of his frame. 

“Pretty sure the whole of Detroit heard that.” He panted, voice rough. Ratchet rumbled into the crook of his neck. “Are you okay?” 

“Should be askin’ you that, kid.” Ratchet muttered, looking up. “You’re still charged. I can feel you in there, twitching.” 

Blushing furiously, Optimus lowered his helm and nuzzled his face into Ratchet’s shoulder. “Y-yeah.” He murmured. “I don’t know how, but yeah.” He let out a breathless laugh. “S-scrap, they’ll all be pretty damn sure what that was about.”

“Neither of us have anything to hide.” Ratchet said, lifting on his pedes so that Optimus’ spike slid free.

Wanting to disagree, Optimus let himself stew in quiet mortification. He had been trying so hard to keep his heat cycle a secret, or to at least keep it low profile, and there was no way anyone missed what had just happened. 

He just hoped with all his spark that Sari wasn’t here today.

Ratchet shifted against him, maneuvering them both so that it was Optimus’ back to the wall. He reached down with some difficulty and hooked an arm behind the Prime’s knee, jerking it upward. Opening his mouth to ask what he was doing, Optimus let out a startled cry instead when Ratchet neatly penetrated him and surged in to the hilt. 

“Primus! You’re hot…” Ratchet grunted.

“Ratchet.” Optimus gasped, hooking his leg on the older mech’s hip so he could brace himself against the wall. Their movements weren’t frantic now, they were deep and thorough.

“This should do the trick.” Ratchet said. “A good, proper spiking to knock that heat outta you.” 

Optimus clung to him and panted, helm clunking against the wall. “Y-you’re so big!” He said in surprise, making Ratchet grumble. 

“You say that like you weren’t expectin’ it!” He growled. “‘Course, this is a lot easier cause you’ve got no seals. Always figured it’d be Prowl doin’ that favor for ya.” 

“M-myself.” 

“What’s that?”

“D-did it myself.” Optimus met his optics. “W-with a toy. C-couldn’t wait.” 

“S’this your first time?” Ratchet asked, slowing the movement of his hips. 

“No. Sentinel and I-” Optimus began, Ratchet kissing him into silence. He tasted himself on Ratchet’s glossa, an alien but not unpleasant sensation. Ratchet was the first to draw away, muttering as he continued fragging the younger mech. “A-aah! So g-good! I’m gonna overload!” 

“You do that.” Ratchet said with a smirk, his old hips moving harder into Optimus’. “Again and again, as many times as you’d like, Optimus Prime.” 

Optimus threw his helm back again, arching hard and feeling the trembling, clenching sensation in his valve before his overload kicked his processor askew. Ratchet fragged him through it with hard jerks of his hips, Optimus mewling into his own hand. 

Lifting Optimus with shocking ease, Ratchet guided his legs around his waist and pushed him hard into the wall. Spreading Optimus so he could get deeper, Ratchet leaned so their chest plates ground together. 

“Even slick as ya are, it’s still good and tight.” He said in a low voice. 

“S’cause… y-your spike’s fat an’ it feels good.” Optimus muttered, sounding almost drunk as he came down from his overload. 

Letting out a laugh before continuing to move, Ratchet shook his helm. “You enjoyin’ this? Tell me what you need, Optimus.” 

“Mmm… deeper. Oh, right there! That’s really good.” Optimus said as they moved together in an unhurried manner. A few long moments later, Ratchet was squeezing Optimus’ thighs together as his own charge began to crackle between the seams of his armor.

“Frag it kid, I’m gonna blow.” The old medic growled, giving a few sharp jerks of his hips before flooding Optimus’ valve with transfluid. “Guh! Hnnngh!”

Optimus wriggled to try and urge the medic to continue, but he felt Ratchet pull away, lowering Optimus’ legs to the floor. “I didn’t-” He murmured, Ratchet hushing him.

“I won’t leave you hangin’.” The softly spoken promise was coupled with a hand pushing between his legs, dragging through the slick mess coating his array before beginning to rub against his outer node, mercilessly soft and teasing. 

Ratchet nuzzled against his neck, lips brushing along the line of his jaw, then Optimus let out a mewl as the older mech pushed three fingers into his heated valve. “Pay more attention to your heat next time…” Ratchet said. “It goes in cycles, y’know.” 

“I… I didn’t mean to make life around here d-difficult.” Optimus panted, cheeks blazing. Ratchet snorted out a soft laugh, then captured his mouth in another kiss. 

His digits wriggled against the walls of Optimus’ channel, his thumb pressed into the swollen outer node, his glossa carefully mapped the inside of his mouth and the combination of his attentions brought the Prime to a final overload. Ratchet had to hold the younger mech up when his legs finally refused to cooperate any longer, four overloads in quick succession too much for his systems.

A scan tingled through his systems, Optimus weakly raising his helm to look Ratchet in the optics. 

“Feelin’ better?” Ratchet asked with a satisfied smirk.

“Much.” Optimus ex-vented, getting his pedes under him again and pushing himself upright. 

“For the remainder of this, cause it will rear its ugly head again, I want you to go to the team. No complaints! I don’t have the energy to take care of you myself. Think of it as raising morale.” Ratchet said, holding a hand up when Optimus opened his mouth to speak. “And for the love of Primus, go to Bumblebee first, will ya? He’s obnoxious on a good day but charged up like he is over this, he’s unbearable.” 

“Will do.” Optimus said with a soft, breathless laugh.


End file.
